CHAPTER 11
NARRATED
Every person in the room is frozen, trying to process Thabile’s entrance. Zenzele looks like he has been slapped, his face is pale as he stares at the sealed envelope in Thabile’s hand. Gatsha remains standing by the window, but his posture has changed. He is no longer the confident heir; he looks like a man watching a storm cloud gather over his head.
“This is ridiculous,” Zenzele finally says, his voice cracking slightly. “I have the original files. I have the power of attorney. You can’t just walk in here with a piece of paper and claim it’s a legal document. I need to verify the signatures and see the witnesses. This has to be proven legit and legal before we move a single inch.”
Thabile opens her bag and pulls out a tablet, sliding a digital certificate across the table toward Zenzele and a recorded video that has date and time stamps Funani made.
“The will was filed electronically with the Master’s Office four hours before the accident. It is time-stamped, notarized, and witnessed by two independent parties who have no connection to the Nhlapho family or the business. It is as legal as it gets, Zenzele. My firm has already verified the validity.”
Hlengiwe watches them go back and forth, her head spinning. She feels the emptiness in her womb, but for the first time in days, a spark of curiosity keeps her from collapsing.
“Read it,” Hlengiwe says, her voice low but steady.
Thabile clears her throat and begins to read. The room erupts into chaos within minutes.
Funani knew his family well. He knew the greed that lived in MaDorothy’s heart and the laziness in Lungisani’s bones. To his parents and his brother, he left a fixed sum of a generous amount, but with a massive catch.
The inheritance is tied to a No-Contact clause. If any member of the Nhlapho family harasses, sues, or attempts to move into Hlengiwe’s home, their portion of the money is immediately forfeited and donated to a charity of Hlengiwe’s choice.
MaDorothy claps her hands in disbelief “A child I birthed and raised is doing this to us! He is casting us aside and treating his own blood like beggars!”
Nhlapho Senior puts a hand on her arm, his eyes wide at the amount mentioned. It’s enough to keep them comfortable in Mayflower for the rest of their lives, but it isn’t the empire they wanted.
Thabile moves to the business. Funani reveals in the will that as soon as Hlengiwe told him she was pregnant, he made changes to the main business. He acknowledges Gatsha’s thirty-five percent share in the hydraulic waste business, but he drops a bombshell. He had quietly moved the majority of the company’s liquid assets and the ownership of the actual truck fleet into a separate private holding company.
This holding company is owned one hundred percent by Hlengiwe and their “unborn child.”
“Wait,” Gatsha interrupts, his voice shaking with anger. “If the fleet is moved, then what am I partnering in? I own thirty-five percent of a shell company?”
“You own thirty-five percent of the name and the depot lease, Mr. Cebani,” Thabile says calmly. “But the tools of the trade, the trucks, contracts, and the specialized equipment belong to the holding company. If Hlengiwe decides to pull those trucks, your business is just an empty yard.”
Zenzele is sweating now, his fingers trembling as he looks at the documents. “This is unbelievable!”
Thabile continues, as Hlengiwe knows, Funani had other investments and a property in Cape Town. That property, investments and everything else is left to Hlengiwe. He ensured that even without the business, she would never have to work a day in her life.
Hlengiwe closes her eyes, tears leaking through her lashes. She can almost hear Funani’s voice. He wasn’t just a businessman; he was a husband who saw the wolves circling his wife and decided to build a wall they couldn’t climb.
Gatsha sinks into a chair, his head in his hands. He has the office, the chair and the title but Funani has ensured that Hlengiwe holds the keys to the engines.
The silence that follows is so loud you can hear a pin dropping. MaDorothy looks at the documents on the table, her face twisting as she realizes that her mouth has just become very expensive. Every insult she wants to hurl at Hlengiwe is now a potential deduction from her bank account.
Nhlapho Senior stands up slowly, leaning heavily on his cane. He looks at Hlengiwe, then at Thabile. He is a man of tradition, but he is also a man who understands when he has been beaten by a ghost.
“We are leaving,” the old man says, “There is nothing left for us here. Makoti, we wish you all the best. As tense as this situation is, you will forever be our daughter and we hope that one day things will calm down and we can be family again. Let’s go, my people.”
Lungisani looks like he wants to argue, his eyes looking at the luxury furniture he thought would be his, but one look at his father’s stern face silences him. They walk out of the lounge, defeated by the very man they claimed to love.
Outside, Gatsha and Zenzele stand by Gatsha’s car. The silence between them is heavy until Zenzele finally breaks it.
“He played us, damn he was good.” Zenzele says, loosening his tie as if he’s suffocating. “Funani knew but didn’t have proof. He turned your thirty-five percent into a pile of useless paper. Without those trucks and those holding company contracts, we’re just running a graveyard.”
Zenzele looks at Gatsha, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. “What will you do now? The board will find out the assets have been moved. Your authority is an illusion.”
Gatsha leans against his car, staring at the main gate. His face is a mask of suppressed anger, his jaw tight. “I don’t know for sure, I didn’t see this coming.” he admits, “But I’ve worked too hard, Zenzele. I spent years in that man’s shadow, doing the dirty work, fixing the mess, building the routes. I will be damned if I walk away with nothing.”
“So, what?” Zenzele asks, stepping closer. “Are you going to remove her? Because if she ends up like Funani, the police won’t be as easy to pay off. It will be too convenient.”
Gatsha shakes his head. “No. I’m not touching her. I don’t need to.”
He looks up at the sky, a small, dark smirk returning to his lips. “Look at her Zenzele, she’s a ghost. She lost her husband and her child in the span of a week. She is a ticking bomb waiting to explode. This business isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s high pressure, tight deadlines, and cutthroat competition. The industry won’t recognize her as a woman, and they certainly won’t care about her grief.”
He taps his fingers against the metal of the car, “She’s going to mess up and crumble under the weight of those holding companies and the decisions she has to make. When the pressure becomes too much and she starts to drown, I’ll be right there. I’ll be on standby, waiting to pounce and ‘save’ her by taking it all off her hands.”
Zenzele nods slowly, seeing the logic. “You’re playing the long game now.”
“I’ve always played the long game,” Gatsha says, opening his car door. “I just have to wait for her back to break.”
HLENGIWE
In the quiet lounge, the dust from the Nhlaphos’ hasty departure begins to settle. Thabile remains seated, organizing the thick stacks of paper back into her leather bag.
“Thabile,” she says, playing with her ring. ” Funani handled the logistics, contracts and the grease on the wheels. I’ve been away from the office for years.”
Thabile moves closer and places a hand on her arm. Hlengiwe, your husband didn’t do this to drown you. You aren’t alone in this. My firm is on retainer to handle the legal transition, and I will be right beside you for every board meeting and every contract signing. We will take it step by step. First, we secure the assets, then we look at the books. I will hold your hand through this entire process.”
She nods weakly, though the weight of it feels like a mountain. “Thank you, Thabile. I just need a moment.”
“Take all the moments you need,” Thabile says softly.
She retreats to her bedroom, the sanctuary she once shared with her husband. She sinks onto the edge of the bed, her head dropping into her hands. Balungile and Siza follow her in, closing the door softly behind them.
“What is next, Hlengi?” Balungile asks, sitting on the couch across from her. “The family is gone and the business is technically yours. What do we do now?”
She lets out a sigh, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t know, I have a terrible headache. My brain feels like it’s vibrating. All of this is just too much to handle. I am so tired and frustrated.”
Siza moves closer, sitting beside her on the bed and gently brushing her arm. “I can only imagine the stress, babe. It’s a lot to process in one hour. You’re grieving, and now you’re the CEO. It’s a lot of confusion.”
“You can do this, Hlengi,” Balungile says firmly, leaning forward. “Don’t forget who you are. You were there in that dusty little office when Funani bought his first two trucks. You did the invoicing, handled the drivers. You were the heartbeat of that business before it even had a name.”
She looks up, a sad smile touching her lips. “That was a lifetime ago, Balu. As soon as the business picked up and the millions started rolling in, Funani told me to rest. He wanted to provide, turned me into a housewife, and I let him. I haven’t looked at a manifest in years.”
“But the knowledge is there,” Balungile insists. “Funani leaving everything to you, specifically bypassing the people he spent every day with shows that he trusted your mind and your leadership more than anyone else’s. He knew you had the strength to protect what he built. You need to dig back into that woman you were and bring her back. She’s still in there.”
A single, hot tear escapes her eye and rolls down her cheek. She leans back, laying her head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. “I should have known something was off,” she whispers. ” I remember that night, he came back from work looking like a zombie. My attempts to understand what was going on failed. He didn’t come to bed until the early hours of the morning.”
Siza leans in, “You think something was already going on back then?”
“Definitely,” she says, her voice gaining a bit of strength. “The day he died, we had just come back from viewing the decor for the baby shower. He was so absent-minded the entire time, constantly on his phone. It pissed me off so much because I thought he was just being a workaholic again. I didn’t realize he was fighting for his life.”
Siza frowns. “Did he say anything specific? Anything that stuck out?”
She sits up abruptly, “His final words right before he drove out of that gate for the last time. He kissed my forehead and told me he was going to meet someone. He said this person was going to give him proof that someone very close to us was trying to hurt us. He looked me in the eyes and told me not to trust anyone. He specifically mentioned Gatsha.”
Balungile gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “What does that even mean? Was Gatsha involved in the accident?”
“I don’t know yet,” she says, “But I am going to find out. If my husband was murdered for this business, I will burn it all down before I let them enjoy a cent of it.”
She throws the duvet aside and gets off the bed, her movements fueled by a sudden burst of adrenaline.
“Hlengi, where are you going?” Siza asks, standing up in alarm. “You need to rest!”
“I’m looking for the plastic bag,” She says, “The one the police gave me with Funani’s belongings from the accident scene. His watch, wallet and his phone. I need that phone. If there is proof of who he was meeting, it’s in there.”
She begins tossing pillows and opening drawers.
To be continued
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